Brothers from Different Armies

By Ian Searle

A humble family of lumberjacks is conscripted into the German army during the events of the Second World War. For Johan, this means the start of an unforgettable experience and a chance to serve his country. To his father who has seen war however, this is a death sentence. Along the way, Johan’s brother Siegfried also joins the war against his father’s wishes, who wanted him to get an education. Siegfried is recruited into the Waffen SS, and becomes brainwashed with the Ideas of the Third Reich. Johan meanwhile continues to keep the values taught to him by his father.
As the events of the Second World War unfold, Johan will find his wants and desires, while questioning his own loyalty to his country. Then, as the brothers reunite, they discover that they are not the same people they once knew. This in turn sparks a bitter rivalry between the two brothers, which will only end in tragedy. As the Second World War approaches its final days, Johan will end up having to make the hardest decision anyone’s ever had to make.
To behead the monster that is responsible for all the suffering caused by the war, or to let an old foolish man live, in hopes to save the rest of his own humanity. Along the way, Johan will meet many different characters who in turn shape the decision that he will be faced with one day, as he discovers the many different sides of humanity. For this is not just a book, it is the diary of a Wehrmacht soldier and this man’s legacy - a story never before told... till now.

• Language: English
• Publisher: ReadOnTime BV
• Release date: Dec 6, 2012
• ISBN: 9781742842240

Book preview

Brothers from Different Armies

Ian Searle

Smashwords Edition

Brothers from Different Armies

Copyright © 2012 Ian Searle

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

The information, views, opinions and visuals expressed in this publication are solely those of the author(s) and do not reflect those of the publisher. The publisher disclaims any liabilities or responsibilities whatsoever for any damages, libel or liabilities arising directly or indirectly from the contents of this publication.

A copy of this publication can be found in the National Library of Australia.

ISBN: 978-1-742842-24-0 (pbk.)

Published by Book Pal

www.bookpal.com.au

Contents

Summary Brothers from Different Armies

Chapter 1 In the beginning

Chapter 2 Chopping down the trees

Chapter 3 The letter

Chapter 4 Recruit training

Chapter 5 Invasion of Poland

Chapter 6 Counter Attack

Chapter 7 Back home

Chapter 8 Belgium then France

Chapter 9 Paris

Chapter 10 The New Fatherland

Chapter 11 Russia

Chapter 12 The truth behind every heart

Chapter 13 Clash of the orders

Chapter 14 Hiding from the past

Chapter 15 War has two enemies

Chapter 16 The trap in the wolfs lair

Chapter 17 Brothers no more

Chapter 18 Change

Summary Brothers from Different Armies

A humble family of lumberjacks is conscripted into the German army, during the events of the Second World War. For Johan this means the start of an unforgettable experience and a chance to serve his country. To his father who has seen war however, this is a death sentence. Along the way Johan's brother Siegfried, also joins the war against his father’s wishes, who wanted him to get an education. Siegfried is then recruited into the Waffen SS and becomes brain washed, with the Ideas of the Third Reich. Johan meanwhile continues to keep the values, taught to him by his father.

As the events of the Second World War unfold, Johan will find his wants and desires, while questioning his own loyalty to his country. Then as the brothers reunite, they discover that they are not the same people, they once knew. This in turn sparks a bitter rivalry between the two brothers, which will only end in tragedy. Then as the Second World War approaches its final days, Johan will end up having to make the hardest decision, anyone's ever had to make.

To behead the monster that is responsible for all the suffering caused by the war, or to let an old foolish man live, in hopes to save the rest of his own humanity. Along the way however Johan will meet many different characters, who in turn shape that decision that he will be faced with one day, as he discovers the many different sides of humanity. For this is not just a book, it is the Diary of a Wehrmacht soldier and this man's legacy. A story never before told, till now.

Chapter 1 In the beginning

If by any chance you are reading this, then it means that I have died. Know that under the circumstances, I did the best I can to protect my family and the fatherland. However in the process, I failed to protect myself. I wish there was more that I could have done, but it is too late for mere regrets of a lost soldier. Regardless of how I died however, please remember me as a son to my parents, a son of the fatherland and most of all a brother.

Often in stressful situations, the men tell me to think of your family, why you are doing this. As I write in this journal however, the overwhelming feeling of coldness reaches my hands, stopping it to a still motion. It is at this very point in time, my pen drops down onto unknowing ground. Then as I pick up my pen, I begin to wonder if it's the cold humidity that has frozen my hand, stopping the flight of ink or the emptiness, from the loss of life after today's battle. Yet if I'm going to write about my family, I should start from the very beginning.

Before the war I had but one family, which was the family that was not only responsible for my birth, but prepared me for the years that lay ahead. I was born in Berlin Germany in the year nineteen twenty. My father was Adelric Berg, who at the time of my birth, was on hospital leave from fighting the Great War. My mother was Tiabe Berg, which she was always known as a strong hearted woman, who also gave me the name Johan. I would always ask my parents, why they gave me the name Johan. My father would always dismiss the question entirely, while my mother would often tell me that it was the name of a hero, both wise and brave.

Then there was my younger brother Siegfried, who was born two years after me. On the day of his birth, I had taken my first steps as a child. Those first steps were cut short however, by a misplaced hatchet that had fallen off the back of a truck, down onto the ground just in front of me. Instantly I trip over the misplaced hatchet, which father called a sign of things to come. About a couple years after Siegfried's birth, we moved away from Berlin to the countryside. The move was due to my father never really liking loud places, often enjoying the quiet serenity of the forest, where he could think clearly.

The new house that we moved into was a big single story house. The outside of the house was painted green, like just the trees around it, making it hard to spot from a distance. The interior of the house contained a living room, a kitchen, two bedrooms and a study, all connected by a small hallway. At the far end of the hall was a shed, where all the equipment was stored, including father's truck that was also painted green. The back of the house was quite large, where the grass was always short and guarded by a small steel fence, which stretched all the way around the house.

At the front of the house was a road made out of mud and stone. Yet no one ever used that road much, apart from us. Beyond the road stood a forest that seemed to never end, which as a child I would often venture into alone despite the fact that both my father and mother didn't want me to go without their company, due to the dangers of wolfs lurking around the forest. I however saw the forest in a different way, a world where peace and quiet would converge together. A place that allowed you to leave your troubles behind, as you explored the vast depths of the wildness.

In the forest there were no responsibilities, other than the law of the wild. Even with the danger of being mauled by wolfs, I still would often walk in the forest alone, wondering about my ancestors and how they would survive in the forest, in amongst the many different types of creatures within the forest. Then as I start to wander off in my own little world, the sounds of small twigs being crushed instantly echoes throughout the forest. These sounds served as a warning, my brother wasn't too far away. My brother wasn't interested in the forest, but more interested in scaring me by hiding behind trees or scrubs, before leaping out like a tiger while screaming at the top of his lungs.

This was often a camouflage for his insecurities, to which he was often scared of make believe monsters, despite our father and me trying to tell him otherwise. When father confronted him of this fear, he would just keep protesting that these monsters were real, causing father to storm away in anger due to his stubbiness. His fear became so bad he was convinced there was a creature residing in our closet that was waiting for him to go to sleep, so it could eat him. We ended up having lots of sleepless nights, thanks to this crazy fear of his. Until one day when I snuck off into the forest, where I put on an empty grain sack on my head.

I then began to sneak up behind an unaware Siegfried, who had crouched behind a scrub, waiting for me to walk by. In a split second I grabbed him in a bear lock and in a demented voice, I screamed out at the top of my lungs, I'm going to eat you! I remember my brother crying at the time as he ran for his life, which I thought it was funny, until later that afternoon when I arrived back at the house. Standing in front of the back door was mother, who had her arms crossed while giving me a bad stare, indicating I was in serious trouble. Before I could get a word out, mother slapped me across the face, instantly turning my cheeks red with guilt.

Still to this very day I remember those words that came out of my mother's mouth. What you did was unacceptable Johan! You are his older brother. You are to look after him. Not scare him and what are you doing walking off into the forest on your own. There are wild wolfs out there or did you forget what your father and I had told you. After that I was scared of what my father might do, when he come back home from work. Yet to my surprise at the dinner table, he just simply said Boys will be boys and if Siegfried going to run off over a boy with a sack on his head. Then he needs to grow up.

Mother wasn't the type of woman to answer back to our father, or to try to overthrow a decision that our father had made. Mother had always had a soft spot for Siegfried however, which allowed him to get away with a lot of naughty stuff, leaving me to face the consequences alone. On this night however, mother simply had enough of me wandering off in the forest alone, as she expressed her anger in her reply. Well if Johan stops running off into the forest all by himself. Then this wouldn't be an issue. We have told him about the wild creatures in the forest but he just doesn't listen.

After father finished eating his dinner, he then looks straight at me with a wide smile, stretched across his face. It was the kind of smile that represented many things, including the appreciation for the meal he had just eaten, or being proud of me for adventuring on my own. That same smile however could also lead to punishment, which seemed to be on my father’s mind. In a loud of confidant tone, father then began to speak his mind. If Johan likes the forest so much then he can come to work with me. As the forest seems to be in his blood and he will need to learn a trade sooner or later.

This decision displeased my mother, as she didn't like the idea of separating my brother and me. She quickly began regretting about even bringing up the conversation, but it wasn't till father quickly add that Siegfried would be joining us, she truly had begun to regret it. In my father's words, Siegfried needs to learn how to be a man and to stop being afraid of the dark. This was his motivation in making such a decision in the first place, as he told mother, who straight away excused herself from the table.

My father on the surface seemed like a simple man. Yet underneath the surface, he was actually the opposite and to sum him up in a few words, would be quite impossible. To begin explaining my father, one would have to say that like me, he had the same facial features, along with the same short brown hair and brown eyes. Yet unlike me, he seemed to have a hard look on his face. Often when you stare into the eyes of this man, all you see is sadness along with lost hope, in a war between a sense of duty and the willingness, to do the right thing. He was average height with a stocky build and often wore green pants, which he had an obsession with the colour green. He often wore a blue jumper that my mother was very fond of, as blue was her favourite colour.

My father was also a no nonsense person, who often spoke with a low key voice. He hated repeating himself and suddenly became angry, if you didn't learn something the first time. I remember once when I was a young boy, father and I were stacking the wood, after he had finished work for the day. I was stacking the wood in the wrong direction, despite him teaching me to stack it the other way. After seeing the wrongly stacked pile of wood, father then just looked down on me, with great disappointment on his face. Before a single tear could escape my eye, a strong force of wind guided by my father's hand, hit me on the back of my head. As the pain started to sink into my skull, father simply replied, Johan you are not stupid! I showed you how to do it now do it.

From that day I learnt my greatest fear, wasn't the beating my father could give me, but actually disappointing him and to see it in his eyes, was punishment enough. Of cause other children when they misbehaved, ended up being yelled at, or physically beaten. I even saw such a thing happen once as father, my brother and I, had stopped into town to get some groceries. We had all just stepped out of father’s truck, when a man in the middle of the street, quickly struck his child in the head with a fully clenched fist. The blow instantly forced the child's body to fall straight down, onto the ground behind him.

After witnessing this however, father was so disgusted that he quickly approached the man, before giving him a taste of his own medicine. Then as the man remained on the ground in shock, father told him that if he ever hit a child like that again, he would get his axe from the truck and chop his hands off. That was the way of my Father in that he had a set way of discipline, without the use of excess violence. This type of discipline extended from waking up in a morning, through to what someone did during the day and at night, where we would prepare for the next day that waited for us.

This practice was not only to stick us into a daily routine, but also to ward off laziness. In times when one would begin to stray away from this discipline, he would often guide them back to this path, in a series of events. It starting with a cold stare of disappointment, followed by slap on the back of the head and finally, a speech about how he expected more from you. For me I understood this way of discipline and often pushed myself to do better. My bother on the other hand never really understood this way of life, causing him to break down crying because of it. This in turn would cause my father to storm off in an angry fit, often leaving me to deal with the problem, because it was an older brother's duty to teach the younger brother.

Sometimes it was hard to teach Siegfried, as he was just too stubborn for his own good. One good example of this was one morning, where Siegfried refused to get out of bed, despite both my mother and myself telling him otherwise. He still didn't move and even after being drenched with cold water, he still just remained asleep in his bed. I then made my way to the truck after breakfast, quickly forgetting that Siegfried was still in bed at the time. As I climbed into the truck, father who had been in the driver's side of the truck, ready to start the engine quickly asked, Where is Siegfried?

Then as I remembered that he was still in bed, a cold gush of wind brushed down my back, making the goose bumps stand up straight. I suddenly became too scared to tell him because being the older brother, not only are you responsible for your younger siblings teachings, you were also part of the receiving end of your brother’s mishaps. Father asked again as the disappointed look grew on his face, which only intensified as I told him the truth. In an instant he jumped out of the truck and stormed through the house, like a lightning bolt. He then grabbed Siegfried by the back of the neck, marching him straight to the truck, before throwing him in the passenger side and slammed the door shut.

He then jumped in the driver's side of the truck, quickly slamming the door, before starting the engine. As the engine began to hum, Siegfried let out a whimper that caught father's attention, causing him to retaliate with the cold hard stare. That stone cold stare was very intimidating, which would often send cold shivers down anyone's spine, child or adult. After that day Siegfried always woke up at first sun rise, as the consequences of that day, would forever be on the back of his mind. The relationship between Siegfried and our father was often a difficult one. My father had always believed that a boy was a strong solid child, who lets nothing get in his way. Any boy who cries was often seen as a weak link, someone that will never succeed in life, no matter what that boy tries to do.

My brother on the other hand, was not a prime example of this, as he was more of a charming kind of person. My brother’s sensitive and quiet behaviour, would often stir our father into thinking, Siegfried was just being lazy. Father's beliefs also conflicted with mothers in regards to Siegfried, as she loved these qualities about him and even encouraged, this type of behaviour. She often referred to Siegfried as her little white daffodil, whenever father and mother spoke about Siegfried's behaviour. My father of cause would then reply to our mother, Siegfried was no flower or a princess trapped in a tower. He’s a boy with two hands that are used more for holding tears than holding wood.

It's not that my father hated or disliked my brother, it was just that Siegfried was different from most boys, he knew in his life. Siegfried always had a warm smile on his face and often talked to strangers. He even showed interest in politics at an early age, to which these traits that made Siegfried, were the same three traits my father disliked about people. It wasn't really so much the smiling that worried him, as it was the talking to strangers, because it was an unnatural thing for a boy to talk to people, he didn't know. Then there was the politics aspect, in which my father’s always hated since the Great War.

I would often ask my father about the Great War, as he would often reply with, such stories should not be heard by children. Other times when I asked, father would just continue with what he was doing, completely ignoring me in the process. I learnt quickly that the Great War was a subject, which my father didn't feel comfortable talking about, always keeping its secrets locked up inside. The only thing we heard that would get us some clue as to what happened, was when he would be in is study. Often when father had too much to drink, he would enter the study room. A few minutes later the past would reveal itself from inside the room, as sounds of sorrow and torment quickly filled the room, coming from a man both desperate and ashamed of his past.

Sometimes it was about a man who died and other times, it was about pure guilt, because he was still alive. It was clear that he had buried the darker side of his soul in that room, often feeling the need to revisit it, every once in a while. After mother had finished tucking us in for the night, I would then ask her about the Great War. Mother would always reply that such stories are not meant for young minds. Out of all the bedtime stories mother use to tell us, my favourite one was about a barbarian named Hun tug, who went on a hunt for the great black wolf.

Hun tug had often seen this wolf on many hunting expeditions, but when he would strike for the wolf with his spear however, the wolf would just disappear into thin air. Eventually it was the great black wolf, who had found Hun tug, cornering him in his weakest point. Yet even with no spear in hand, for the first time, he was still willing to face the wolf. The wolf then started talking to Hun tug, through great words of wisdom, sharing with him that he was his spiritual guild. He also told Hun tug that what had been hunting was not the wolf itself, but his courage, as he was never able to face the great black wolf before, without his spear.

When Hun tug returned to the village, the elder had known that he had spoken to the Great black wolf. From there on he was known as Hun tug, the great wolf hunter. Apart from being a great story teller, our mother was also a great cook. Even if you were sick with the flu and mother had cooked a roast, you would still get out of bed to eat because that's how good, mother's cooking was. It was also the reason why father drove so fast, when we were coming home for the night. Something I would soon find out first hand, as spring soon approached.

Our father's trade was a lumberjack, just like his father before him and so on, for many generations. Many of the other lumberjacks often camped next to the work site, but father would always return to the house, due to a promise made years ago to mother. The promise he made was that no matter what happened, he would always return to be with his family, before the night fall of each day. Accompanying father to his work site was exactly like training, designed to prepare us for a life as a lumberjack. From an early age we were taught the values of team work, respecting one another and finally, planning for the task ahead.

During this phase of my childhood, I would find out a lot about my younger brother, abilities that made of the core of Siegfried. While I knew he would never really get the hang of swinging an axe, there were other traits about him that stood out, like a tree in the middle of a grass bed. One of these traits was leadership. As he a natural born leader and often demonstrated this, by showing the younger children where to place the equipment. Even when you told him to assemble the other children for a task, he would often give them directions and show them, how to complete the task that was given.

He also seemed to be a caring person, which one morning after he has assembled the children, one of them complained about an itch on his foot. When no one else would listen, Siegfried calmly asked the child to take off his shoe and his sock. The child then removed his sock to reveal lots of scabs, running all down his foot. Siegfried immediately went to the father, showing him the evidence that the child did in fact, have an infection on his foot. After that day father slowly began to accept Siegfried as his son, understanding that while he had different traits from the two of us, he still had potential to be a successful in his later life.

Siegfried also had another talent that would often make other boys and men, very jealous. This talent often cause many people of the same sex, to take an instant disliking towards him, as he had a talent for attracting the opposite sex. I’m not sure if it is the blue eyes or the blonde hair, or even the baby face. For some reason however, girls just naturally fell in love with him. Even as a child, he would often have girls chase him around, which it wasn't long before they would disappear into the forest together. Eventually when I tracked them down, I would often find them sitting on the grass beside the river, kissing each other.

It wasn't long before the other fathers found out what was going on, which they stopped bringing their daughters to work with them, for fear that they might lose their virginity. This was about the only time, father actually smiled because of Siegfried's actions. To this day I can remember father saying that at least Siegfried, will continue the blood line, as the two then smiled at each other. They